


Synaesthesia (Blue)

by obeagler



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Awkwardly includes every shade of blue I could find, M/M, Oops, Synaesthesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 23:01:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3587292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obeagler/pseuds/obeagler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Imagine that when you see a city's skyline, you taste blackberries. Or maybe when you hear a violin, you feel a tickle on your left knee. Perhaps you are completely convinced that Wednesdays are light red.”<br/>Phil has synaesthesia. Dan is blue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Synaesthesia (Blue)

**Author's Note:**

> My most sincere apologies if I completely misinterpreted synaesthesia and how it affects a person. I was inspired by a core R.S lesson and ran with it, so if I got it wrong - sorry!!

_“Imagine that when you see a city's skyline, you taste blackberries. Or maybe when you hear a violin, you feel a tickle on your left knee. Perhaps you are completely convinced that Wednesdays are light red.”_

Phil has synaesthesia. Dan is blue.  


He's blue in the usual sense, some days; to the outside world he's just quiet, but to Phil he's sad, pale, a washed-out and watered-down shade of his usual self. On these days Phil knows the echoing white void that seeps in through the cracks in the walls when Dan isn't paying attention has invaded his mind again. Phil wraps him up in his arms and duvet and spins him a web to keep him warm while he sleeps against Phil's chest. Dan wakes stifled and suffocated and wriggles out of Phil's cocoon to wash away the milky white film that crawls over him sometimes, some days; washes away his stresses and theories and paralysing fears and makes himself blue again.

Most days, he's strong, bright. Most days he's a bold azure, sure and clear as he cooks breakfast in boxers, in one of Phil's socks and one of his own, boxers and socks and oven gloves and nothing else, grinning over his shoulder at Phil before turning back to the oven. He makes a surprised noise in his throat when Phil creeps up and presses a kiss to the back of Dan's neck, the muscles in his back shivering under Phil's palms. He even _sounds_ blue, calming and solid when he asks Phil what his plans are for the day. The nudge of lips into the hair curling at the base of Dan's skull and the dancing of fingertips over the trail of hair down the centre of his tummy is answer enough.

On a good day, a really good day, Dan's a deep royal blue, saturated and rich when he kisses Phil, hands sliding over his hips to press at the small of his back and hold him close. His lips burn ultramarine over Phil's collarbones, teeth kindling cyan sparks behind Phil's eyes and under his skin. Dan takes a step and presses Phil back against the wall; Phil stumbles, makes a noise in his throat and then Dan ignites, bursts into turquoise flames and pulls Phil into the blaze.


End file.
